A quadraplegic man’s man is to do a triathlon. His brother tows him as he swims. Pulls him with his cycle. Pushes him as he runs. And together, they finish the race. The able bodied kissing the disabled as they finish, tears rolling down both faces.
Armless mom and her 3-year old toddler. Mother uses her feet to take out her credit card. Little one pays for a snack. Mother opens the pack using her big and small toes of her feet, and the toddler eats her snack happily. A mother with her small backpack and her toddler walks on happily. Where are they going, I wonder.
A torso of man missing an arm and lower body asks why you keep asking yourself and not finding yourself at gym. This worry is a privilege. Having legs is a privilege. So is having both sets of arms.
A man telling his wife to be how he loves her more. Not more than she does. No, not like that. He loves her more than any obstacle that is going to come between us. He loves her more than the anger that may arise to keep him away from her. He loves her more than any illness that may disturb their peace.
We villify social media, and yes. They are unsocial in that we are not active participants. Doom scrolling, a system design that keeps us tethered to heroine that continues to want to inject in us.
Like everything in life, what we see and who we surround ourselves with is a choice. The more you look for the good, the more good will come to us. The more inspiration you seek, the more inspiration you will see. We seek what we see. We see what we seek.
It’s so simple, yet we get it wrong majority of the time. I get it wrong often, but I am getting better at getting it right too.
These reels are like the different colors of inspirations that make us look up to see our own reflections, appreciating kaleidoscope of beauty all around. A simple reminder to look up and around us to see things as they are.
What am I grateful for? As my body lay still, my mind racing, this blanket is too cold. The two of them too hot. The other one just right, but the duvet not as soft.
The more time I spend in Korea, the more I see how Korean I am.
The Korean in me is always looking for improvements. Spot the waste. Stop the unnecessary. Find better ways to get it done. Reduce, reimagine. Do it right first time with automation and markers as required.
What does it mean to be Korean? To read the room. To see where I fit in the order of hierarchy. Am I allowed to talk? Or is this a meeting of the elders and seniors, and I must feign interest and not disagree?
As I land, I walk through the fossils of Covid, abandoned and overlooked. I go through the immigration line, the first machine scans my passport, before opening the door, where I place my index finger against the scanner. The door opens again, and I walk through, with no checked baggage to wait for. I walk to get u-sim with 100 minutes of call time and unlimited data for 15 days. Thereafter, I send the temporary number to few friends and family. My eldest aunt calls me, and we talk briefly before I excuse myself. I have to buy the airport limousine bus to Hong-Dae for KRW17,500.
My local bank card works, with enough funds to last this trip. I withdraw the maximum KRW 500k to 650k daily to top up. Using the Naver map, I find the walking path to my final destination.
Doukan, the nicest and friendliest community manager checks me into my private room with comfy bed and two rows of hangers for my clothes. It feels good to have my own place to sleep in, and downstairs to work out of, with an external screen.
Cafes and convenience stores appear every 5th building, and I don’t know how these businesses sustain with so much competition. How people manage to stay thin with so much flour and sugar in everything they sell.
Baked goods are combined with everything you’d want, and it’s rare to see butter or jam served with your pastry. Everything is baked in. The same with grilled meat. Scissors are used to cut the meat into bite sized chunks, and so you never see knives as we use spoons and silver chopsticks.
Signs are everywhere. Walk to your right. Do not pass. Hold onto the escalator. In case of fire, do not panic. In case of emergency, pull this handle. Do not talk loudly. Be considerate. Move the pack from your back to the front, to give more space to others. Do not sit on the seat designated for pregnant women. Do not litter (there are no trash cans anywhere). Every taxi has a number for foreigners to call if they need help. Behind every bathroom stall is a sign to seek help if you are suffering from drug addiction. There is zero tolerance here, when it coms to drugs. No weed. No psychedelics. When there is a fire or heavy wind or missing person, the city sends you notifications on your phone, depending on where you are. Every apartment has speakers built in for public announcements. Every hiking trail is manicured. Raised platforms dot public spaces and local mountains to mount your tents. In some areas, there are picnic mats placed for the public to rest on. Along walkways near streams, a variety of exercise machines are available free of charge.
Even weddings are efficient. Wedding halls are set up with stages, flowers and perfect lighting with rooms for make up and hair. Changing rooms with lockers. Restaurant for guests. These halls are rented for maximum two hours, to get people in and out. If you miss the time of the wedding, you’ll be witnessing strangers events. Every picture and setting perfect. All you have to do is pay and show up.
The country I left behind, the poor and unrecognized has made impressive improvements that has now become the norm.
This was done by getting rid of all the gaps and finding better ways to live collectively.
But a part of me, having lived in South Africa for the past 14 years thinks otherwise. I miss the human connection from inefficient way of working. Even ordering at restaurants are done on kiosks with a touch of few screens. Convenient, yes. Human touch, none.
I just listened to Ocean Vuong be interviewed by New York Times for his new book. He recounts his part time job at Boston Market. The facade of American restaurants that are defrosting frozen meals to look human made. The time he almost killed his neighbor for stealing his bike. How he lived in government housing, having to survive with the little with his family. His parents working all the time. How he feels unrelatable to his family. How he feels alone. He breaks down in some parts. His story is not dissimilar to mine. Except I don’t break down after years of therapy, few rounds of mushroom ceremony and one ayahuasca coupled with Vipassana meditation. I agree. It’s nearly impossible to be who we are with ethnic family who we were born into. Impossible explain to them where we are and who we have become, and so I have also abandoned this effort. Instead, forming and nurturing communities with the third culture of international travelers who are more like me than my ethnic family.
Ocean and I have more in common. This is why we should write, to share our stories. To create the connections and invite others to see themselves through our own stories.
And so, this love letter goes out to Ocean Vuong for catalyzing these thoughts and ramblings through your interview and your first book, “On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous.”
I sleep for twelve hours. Twelve days away catching up with me. Sleeping in uncomfortable and unfamiliar beds. Sharing bathrooms with strangers. Keeping South African hours. Sharing a row of seats with a 2m giant with long arms on the way back. The way there, a big and friendly guy who sat in the middle. Don’t they check in early to get a seat best suited for their bodies? Are they not the most uncomfortable in middle seats?
If it weren’t for the promenade walk with two of my friends, I would have stayed asleep until my first meeting.
The walk with two humans and fur animal excited to be on his first first promenade walk. It’s fun being the triangle again, with the conversation flowing between the two, with me adding a little bit of salt. Less pressure and more fun.
As we wait for generous coffee Georgie buys us, I do 100 squats and Carla and Rupi check out the tennis court. We walk back home, to get ready for our days. Georgie presses the cross-walk signal, and she snaps a shot of us before the light blinks green.
To rests, to walks, and to old friends. To love, a verb. The act of showing up and spending time with people that are good for my soul.
To the distribution center, 35 minutes away from Sea Point where I got the opportunity to work with awesome colleagues.
I am grateful to everyone who made me feel welcome. Thanks Riaan, the team lead who opened up your office space and your team to me. To Miles who always kept me informed of office days and invited me to engage in silly conversations. To Deon, who always bought me lunch, saving me from having to make decisions and bringing a putter and golf balls for us to have a bit of fun. To Hassan who brought me a pair of house slippers when I mentioned it once. Who also told me I look even younger than a month ago when he last saw me. To Tanya who showed me around, especially the women’s bathroom. To the security guards who recognized me and let me in through the gates. To the lovely cafeteria lady who made me the most delicious chicken fingers and fries.
Spending few days a week with this team showed me the importance of loose connections. Having a place of work with colleagues to have tea and lunch with. Not exactly friends, nor acquittances. Something in the middle, familiar and kind.
I am not sure when I will see them again, as they are moving to Gardens office, where I am not yet welcome! I invite them to meet me for lunch when they move over. To letting go and saying goodbye. Until we meet next time!
To yesterdays bringing me today. To todays creating tomorrows, officially marking the halfway mark in the 100-day challenge of love letter writing.
My two MBA friends and I are exchanging messages on WhatsApp. A rarity with the difference of time, countries and lifestyles.
To Alice who befriended and included me in her circle. So full of life and silliness, it is fun to be around her. With her, I felt as if I belonged. Showing me a life well lived with all her choices. Choosing her name. Choosing her husband. Wanting two kids and getting after it. Getting a job when she needed it. Buying a house for her parents right next door, and having strong enough boundaries and love to foster the love and care.
To Janet who I was lucky enough to be in the same section. I will always remember her for volunteering to represent our section in the pie eating contest. Not caring she’s a girl and not caring to be looking feminine. Always brave and honest in all discussions and events. For coming over to my place to wish my happy birthday and for some reason, me feeling embarassed and not even seeing her. I’ve come a long way.
Both friends inviting me to their wonderful weddings, being available always and visiting me in South Africa.
On the halfway point of the 100-day love letter challenge, I dedicate this post to you both. I love you. I appreciate you. MBA wouldn’t have been the same without you two.
Life well lived is like investing. The more you invest, the more interest you earn. The more interest you earn, the more compounding you get, to the power of time.
Dollar cost averaging is the act of investing the same amount of money at regular intervals regardless of the market price, consistently over time.
To double the amount of principal, you divide the annual returns into 72. The S&SP returns 8% per annum, which means the $100 today will double to $200 in 9 years.
To the power of compounding friendships, relationships and communities to pour into our abundance.
To sunshines peaking in the coming of winter months, letting me expose my legs to feel the sun against my skin for the last time for a long while. I come back to change before going out for another long walk followed by lunch at the Oranjezicht market. Today, fewer people and relaxing vibes.
This time, two Korean stalls are gone, replaced by a juice station and fish and chips. We share mushroom skewers, three salads plus corn fritter, and the Japanese griddled cakes, one custard and one with nutella and oreo.
To a beautiful Sunday with a promenade walks, with honest conversations. To settling down, letting clutter of thoughts leave the mind. Emptying of expectations and future plans.
To see and accept things as they are.
Happy birthday, gardener of our souls. You are officially a ‘paying’ customer, according to airlines. You look great in your red track suit and flying bees knees pajamas.
I fall asleep in my own blue puma tracksuit, finding myself awake the next morning around 6am.
The Vipassana hiking the path group setting up a hike up Lion’s head this morning. The four women climb up and down getting to know one another. Feminine energy taking over the vibe for the first time, and the comfort that comes from the togetherness.
Coming down from the Lion’s head hike, I ask the group of 4 women, and Charlie’s bakery is recommended. The three of us go for coffee and breakfast. I buy one cookie in the shape of a dinosaur, with prominent color red. Deciding to not buy them at the cost of R1600. My job is to deliver 24 cupcakes. Half for children.
I decide on a Spur, with easier parking with the risk of no parking at Woolworths. Wash my hair before running out of the house to get to the party and help out.
Afterwards, I drive my friend to V&A. Go home to rest and do more admin before going over to Carla’s for a wonderful dinner. Talking and enjoying one another’s company. A safe community of togetherness, with Daniel tellins us about his recently deceased uncle.
“Did he have a good life? Was he happy?”
“He had a lot of friends and kept himself busy. He was a closeted guy, with momentos a potential reminders of the romantic pasts. The neighbor came over recently to see if he can get access to build up the border wall to waterproof his place. The guy was petty.”
Happy people do not behave in petty ways.
I come home to appreciate and acknowledge the three different communities I’ve built here, having the privilege of being invited and celebrated. Landing and having to speak to the immigration officer to be told to leave in three months’ time (I’m leaving anyways), I wonder what I am doing here. I answer my question by seeing what I have created. Communities to connect me to my source of ease.
A good night’s rest on my bed. There is no place like home. SIamese Twin comes over to catch up, to see how I am doing, to reinforce what I learned. What I am learning to integrate.
To my aunts for always thinking of me, suggesting what is best for me. A slow learner I am, but once I get started, there is no stopping me. I always tell my team to tell me as soon as they have a problem. Think of ourselves like an airplane.
Runway is there to give the airplane enough distance to build up velocity before the angle of attack is attempted to fly and create lift. I feel like my time is running out. Both aunts. Sisi and Ameera. Four women who love me unconditionally have been telling me to have a child. You can do it alone, they keep telling me. You are abundant. You have put yourself out there. You’ve tried. My time is running away, the short runaway that is left.
And so, I realize I cannot take off like the the traditional passenger plane. I need to become the F16, able to take off on aircraft carriers, at top velocity, trained and ready to go at a momen’ts notice. Waiting for the moment to do my duty. In the army, they teach you to “train like you fight”. During the time of war, you can’t sit out a fight because of a rain or a sleet. So why would you cancel training for inclement weather? Life doesn’t work that way. Life will come at you when you least expect it.
On the way back, I see the same GE logo I had placed on my hardhat for 6 years. The token of love in my dad’s garage, a momento for him. His pride and joy.
What does it mean to take off? Sisi tells me I should meditate, and so I do. Here, I sit at Plato, contemplating my next steps. What I do today creates the future of my own creations. As I hang up laundry in the dark of the night, a thought whizzes by. The universe keeps telling me the same message over and over again. When will I listen? Today.
Last day in Korea before I jet off to Sea Point. I am happy to be going home. Choosing my home, where I belong. Here is to making choices. Getting unstuck with our identity and belief of where we should stay, based on our origin and ethnicity.
First, I choose me. I choose what is easy and carefree. I choose to go where I am happy. It’s not perfect, and imperfection is what makes us easier to accept. Right now, as I listen to the Beatles play the song, “here comes the sun”, I am reminded to listen to myself. My body and feelings.
What does it mean to love myself better? To live a good life? What does it mean to love? What does it mean to be happy? To be joyful?
Is it to live and die without regrets? Moments leading to my deathbed, am I living an independent life with dignity and freedom to be myself? Am I engaged? Am I able to hold conversations? Am I able to listen, learn and grow? Do I have zero regrets on my deathbed?
Well-lived life is the result of eating and sleeping well, dependent on three major ingredients of life: Where you live. What you do for money. Who you marry.
Where do you live?
Are you in the city? Are you in the countryside? Are you in suburbs? Are you in high rises?
I’ve stayed in camper vans, hostels, guesthouses, friends/relatives’ houses, motels, hotels and camp grounds. In cities, suburbs, seaside, and forests. Once, I had to sleep on the floor of a dormitory.
As an adult, I’ve chosen to live in Jewish neighborhoods. This choice has always served me well. In Korea, comparing 청담동 against 연남동, I prefer the latter. Why? While they are both close to train stations, 연남동 is next to a prominent art university, with a mix of people: tourists, travelers and local residents that mix in the 경의선숲길. Two walkways on either side of a small creek. To the right is a dirt packed path under the trees where you are reminded to embrace silence. The paved walkway where the majority of the people go, having to huddle when walking in big groups. Within walking distance to cafes, restaurants and food marts.
My favorite place so far has been Cape Town. It has all of the above with access to the beach and mountains: safe, public transportation, access to public space, informal community, lots to do, local cafes and restaurants, the right balance of buzz and quiet neighborhood with access to airport.
I don’t want to live in big building with high rises. I want to live close to the ground, with informal interactions with the wider community and strangers. Within two hours to international airports.
I’d like to live in three places: Korea, South Africa and the United States, free to come and go with a backpack.
How do you make money:
Who do you work with? What do you do? Are you a specialist? A generalist? Do you look after a team? Are you remote, hybrid or location bound?
In the army, I liked the structure and predictability of rank and file. Corporate life has been good for me, appreciating the high-caliber and professional go-getters that often annoy me, but force to level up. I’ve done my best working on projects, ramping up to work up to 27 hours in a row to enjoying the lull of little to do. I do not like to work the same hours doing the same old thing.
Is it luck, or did I create this way of working? From my first job to the current one, I’ve always had the autonomy to live and work by my terms. I like managing teams and portfolio, expanding my ability to flex and grow, opportunity to lead and develop myself and others.
While it’s provided me the lifestyle of independence and travel, it is not diversified, stuck in the factory worker mind-set of hours in producing dollars out, with the government taking more than 50% of my earned wages.
And so, while it is unfamiliar and uncomfortable, I would like to generate secondary and tertiary passive incomes. As a published and sought out Author. Speaker. Moderator. Integrator. Meditating, working out, moving my body and mind.
Who do you marry? Who you spend the majority of your time with?
I haven’t married, and this is something I’d like to experience, now that I have cultivated and maintained a healthy and nourishing relationship with myself. If you don’t know how to be alone, you’ll always be lonely. I have not chosen well. Letting the pain body and past traumas attract the same type with different faces. Lingering too long and not cutting ties sooner. Being deliberate and intentional with this endeavor, I’ve been to 16 first dates in the past ten months, with six leading to second dates, and 2 converting to third dates. Learning how to value my time, my potential partner, and becoming more discerning with my standards.
I have great relationships with friends, family and work colleagues. It wasn’t always like this. For ten years, I had no friends. For few years, all I wanted was to be invited to meetings to get to know my colleagues better. What I have achieved today, has been the continuous effort of showing up, listening to understand and leveraging my natural talents: taking the time to notice and appreciate people as they are.
I now value my relationships based on the reciprocal effort. Are they listening to understand? Do they invest as much as I do into the relationship? How do I feel around them?
What does my gut say? Am I better with them, or am I worse off? Do I become a better version of myself or someone I detest myself?
This love letter goes out to traveling and experiencing new places, becoming a better version of myself. Noticing and getting to know myself better, engaging in more self-dialogue, away from the day to day routines (which I miss). While I love traveling, 8 is the perfect number of days to be away from home. To integrate the catalyst of different perspectives to appreciate the home life of the ordinary abundance.
Monil2_House – Gluten free bakery that was closed today.
Spring Bakery in Hongdae – Contemporary bakery with my preferred interior of clean lines and wooden frames.
